Someday
by Pomegranate-Neko
Summary: G1. 'He wears a big smile and laughs, but I can still hear some of the sadness. Nobody else seems to notice. Perhaps it was there all along.' Bumblebee centric.


Note: This is in the point of view of my OC, but it is NOT, repeat **NOT**, about her. This is really just practice with characterization for both canon and non-canon characters. If you don't like OCs, you don't have to read. Or just pretend it's some other 'bot.

---

Despite his heavy metallic feet descending in even steps upon the rigid floor, the yellow mech glides silently down the hallway with nothing more than a faint _kilnks _as metal collides together. It's not his size that causes his noiseless step, because many of the other small Autobots clamor down the corridors like a one-mech stampede. No, his ability to slip soundlessly past is simply a Primus-given talent, one that makes him the perfect espionage agent. One often forgets that the cheery bot is one of the most secretive mechs in the army, but that's what makes him such a talented spy.

So, he probably knows I'm following him.

I'm not following _him_, per se, becauseI think we're going to the same place; the rec. room. At least, I hope so, because I am now most thoroughly lost. And it's obvious he knows I'm behind him, stumbling around with heavy, uneven footsteps, trying to balance three heavy boxes full of things I don't know that rattle around loudly. I should start a conversation with him, maybe to ask where he's going, but we've been in this strange game of follow-the-leader for several breems now.

The top box slides around on ice, and as I try to level the other boxes, a wall smacks me in the face. I let out a cry that sounds like a poor, trapped Turbofox and plummet to the ground.

"Need some help there?" A yellow and black arm is extended towards me.

"Y-yeah, thank you," I stutter, as I am awkwardly helped to my feet. "There's a wall there." I add stupidly.

"Yeah, you gotta watch out for those." He laughs and collects my boxes, which I suspect are now full of broken parts. "Here you go,"

"Thank you, Bumblebee." I said sheepishly, accepting the containers. I watch him smile and walk off again. I quickly follow.

"Are you stalking me?" Bumblebee asks playfully, turning around at the sound of my clumsy stride.

"No - um - the ship – uh - you are - um, - rec. room..." I sputter, my words turning to oil in my mouth. Better go with the easy answer, "Yes?"

He laughs. Bumblebee's laugh is kind and good natured, unlike the twins when I fall down or drop something. No, his laugh is sincere and infectious. I laugh too.

"You're headed to the rec. room?" I nod, and he nods back, because he probably already knew the answer. Taking the top two boxes, he says, "Let's walk together then; we don't want anyone to think a stalker is roaming these corridors."

---

The rec. room wasn't much farther from my little escapade. Several mechs and femmes, sprawled out on the floors and couches, turned to look as the doors _swooshed_ open and closed.

"Where do you want these?" Bumblebee asks, lifting the boxes up slightly.

"…Here…" I reply, dropping my box onto the floor. I was never told where to put them. I think Bumblebee knows that too, because he smiles like I told a joke. We stare at each other for a moment, and then I realize I should say something to him. But he's already walking towards the energon dispenser.

"Thank you!" I cry, a bit too loudly. Some 'bots look at me with amused smiles and I feel myself go hot.

Bumblebee turns his head, still walking, and grins, "No problem." He didn't say it too loudly.

Plopping down next to some friends, I continue to watch Bumblebee as he makes his way to the energon dispenser. As he passes by, the other Minibots greet him with big smiles, "Hi Bumblebee!" "Hey there, Bee!" "Bumblebee! What's up?" Bumblebee replies with just as much enthusiasm.

"How's it goin', little buddy?" asks Hound from his chair next to a very out-of-place looking Mirage. A big, genuine grin is spread across his face.

Bumblebee's smile wavers; I think I see him cringe. But, he recovers and matches the scout's grin, "I'm great, Hound. Thanks for asking." He smiles at the other Autobot, "Hello, Mirage." Mirage simply smiles back and resumes drinking his energon.

The Lamborghini twins lean against the dispenser like they're the coolest 'bots around. I think they're mean. Sunstreaker smirks as Bumblebee timidly approaches.

"Excuse me," Bumblebee murmurs, his voice and optics dropping low.

"What? Is someone there?" Sunstreakers voice drips with sarcasm as he pretends to look around for a mechin front of him, gazing far above Bee's head. "I don't see anyone…"

Sideswipe laughs with his twin. It's the laugh that I hate so very much. A few other mechs giggle, because being short is something that these mechs find very funny. I can name many things that a funnier than that: Cyber-ducks are funny. Wheeljack's exploding inventions are funny. Chubby, uncoordinated organics are funny. Sunstreaker is not funny.

Bumblebee is still glancing at the floor as he asks the twins to move again. Sideswipe leans down to his level as if he were talking to a youngling.

"What's that,_ little _guy? We can't hear you from way up here!" More laughter. I take my eyes off the threesome and look around. Most mechs have turned to look at the ordeal. Some bots are smiling, others look sympathetic. Mirage is pretending not to notice, and Hound is glaring daggers into Sunstreakers armor. Everyone knows that he outranks the twins, and could throw them in the brig for this, but Bumblebee remains silent.

If I were him, I would tell those two off. Or spit on them.

"Leave him alone!"

All heads turn to the deep voice of Brawn, who is standing with his hands on his hips. All my fellow minibots look pissed. I scoot closer and glare too, because this is an important moment.

Sunstreaker snorts, which is not very attractive, and replied, "I keep hearing these voices, but no one's around!"

More laughter.

I should tell him that he must have a few screws loose if he hears voices. Cliffjumper beats me to the insult. It sounds better when he says it.

Insults and threats fly around like metal bullets, and finally after Brawn threatens to rip off the Lamborghinis' limbs and toss them into deep space, the room quiets down. We all think he will actually do it.

Taking a cube of energon, Bumblebee shyly sits at the table with the other minibots. Sometimes he doesn't sit here, he sits with Jazz, Hound, or even Bluestreak, because he doesn't mind that the silver mech talks a lot. He probably thinks it would be rude not to, since they defended him.

"Those twins sure are full of it," Windcharger growls. We all nod.

"Just a bunch of glitches." Powerglide adds from his spot to the left of me.

Each of us mutters an insult or curse towards the headstrong twins. Bumblebee nods, and sips his energon slowly. Eventually, the conversation drifts away from the Lambo twins and lands on the subject of the Autobots' latest battle. I listen, engrossed in the dramatic tales of war. Bumblebee seems more comfortable, engaging in the story and adding in his own details. Time races by and one by one our friends leave. Brawn and Cliffjumper stand up, about to start patrol, and Bumblebee thanks them in a soft voice. The two smirk and Cliffjumper adds one more insult to the Lamborghinis before they head off. Only Bumblebee and I remain now. Silence slowly cloaks us.

"Thanks for helping me carry those boxes," I say at just the right volume.

"Like I said before, no problem." The yellow mech replies, sloshing his remaining energon idly. A smile rests on his faceplate.

We both look around suddenly at the sound of a concealed laugh. Sideswipe and Sunstreaker stand just a few feet away. Then they stride past, noses in the air, and a hand collides with each of out helms; red on green, yellow on yellow.

"See ya later, pipsqueaks!" snorts Sideswipe as the two glide out the doors.

The silence comes back, this time soaked and dripping with awkwardness. A few mechs are staring; I can feel their optics. Bumblebee's head is bowed, staring as if the table is the most fascination thing in the world. In just a few moments, his happiness seems to have vanished like Mirage on a Special Ops. mission.

"The twins…they're just slaggers." I whisper softly.

Bumblebee nods.

I continue, "They say stupid things. They don't care who they say it to, either." I look at him, hoping he understood whatever I just said. He remains the same, and my words keep bubbling up, "If I was a higher rank, like you, I would tell them to slag off and throw them right in the brig. I would keep them there for a long time and…and make them listen to Blaster's loud music!"

Bumblebee laughs. It sounds different from his other laughter. It's sad, but still like he genuinely wants to laugh. "Wouldn't that be great?" he asks, still laughing. "I would love to do that."

"Then why don't you?"

His laughter stops, and he looks at me with sad optics, "And what would that say about me, Datura?"

I pause and try to think of an answer. "That you don't like the twins?"

"No," the minibot replies, "No. It would say that I'll throw anyone who is rude to me in the brig. That I won't let people say what they want to. It will make me look mean, Datura. It will make me look like all the other higher ranking bots around here. You've heard what mechs say about them, I know you have…" his voice fades away, and he looks away. Moments later, he speaks again. "I'd rather take their slag than have everyone say those things about me."

I stare. I stare at the yellow mech for a long time. I can't help it. At some point, my mouth must havefallen open, so I quickly shut it. I check my CPU, because what I just heard could not have come out of Bumblebee's mouth. However, there's nothing wrong with my CPU. So I just stare. Stare and try to think of something to say. Nothing comes up.

"Didn't except that, huh?" Bumblebee asks, the sad laughter still in his voice. "You didn't think that 'sweet little Bumblebee' would ever be like that, right?" He looks back at me, "You must think it's selfish."

"No," my voice comes out softer than I wanted, "No, I don't. I don't think that's selfish. I think it's self_less_," the words start bubbling out of my mouth without my knowing it, "Because everyone wants to be you, Bumblebee. Everyone wants to be like Bumblebee, who is nice, and sweet, and everyone likes him. Who is a great warrior, and is very brave, and Optimus Prime thinks he's just the coolest 'bot ever. _Everyone_ wants to be that, Bumblebee. And even if it's not all truly you, it makes the rest of us feel like we can be that, too." I take a deep breath of air. "I want to be like that Bumblebee someday."

The yellow bot stares at me, his optics wide and mouth open slightly. I imagine that's what I looked like moments ago, except he doesn't look stupid. Then, suddenly, he gets up. "I have to go on patrol now," he explains, and heads towards the door. "Goodbye, Datura."

I mouth the words 'goodbye', but sound doesn't come out. I watch him as he passes some comrades, giving them enthusiastic hellos. He wears a big smile and laughs, but I can still hear some of the sadness. Nobody else seems to notice. Perhaps it was there all along. Just as the doors open, he turns to look at me before he exits the room.

"I want to be like him someday, too."

---

Fin.


End file.
